Acquired Taste
by Bellatrixbeauty
Summary: Rex rescues a girl only to find she hates all evos; even her rescuer. Beyond offense and disappointment, he is determined to prove he's a nice guy. HE WILL NOT BE DEFEATED! Adopted from Happy Cheerio's Tell Me You Still Love Me.
1. Chapter 1

**BB says: **I am adopting this from another author, one _Happy Cheerio _who hasn't the time to do it herself. I salute thee, my ebullient greeting! This is the adoption of _Tell Me You Still Love Me._

**Rating: **Teen

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Generator Rex. I could try to go buy it, but I think MOA would laugh in my face…

Boring.

Boring.

_Boring._

Because the word held only two syllables, two highly predictable stepping stones, it did nothing to soothe the monotonous droning of the man in front of the white board. Perhaps it even made it worse, accusing him of a crime that so many high school teachers allowed themselves to commit. For how can one expect to teach –truly teach, their knowledge sticking in the minds of the young- if they themselves find the lessons tedious? How can one promote what is despised?

Perhaps not every professor in the high school has such distaste for the subject they had chosen to lecture. But this particular man on this particular day was slowly but surely killing Emily Tybalt.

She was a good student (in her own right). Prone to accidents, procrastination, and naps, but a good girl all the same. In her mind only delinquents and slackers fell asleep in class, and yet her eye lids were slowly growing so heavy she could hardly stand it. The doodles on the corners of her English notes proved useless against the onslaught of a night spent drawing when she should have been sleeping, another character taking form from the depths of her imagination and demanding she use her resting hours to bring it to life.

The only class she wouldn't drift off in on a day like this was art. And she didn't have that for another hour.

Why did things seem so slow today? Surely it couldn't just be her lack of sleep? Emily stifled a yawn in her throat, nearly groaning when the teacher mentioned something about their papers on _Of Mice and Men. _English was so not her subject. Eyes repelled, her gaze fell upon a red ribbon strung over the doorway.

The girl promptly winced.

Valentine's Day.

The day of lovers and likers and swooners. When greeting cards and chalky candies were worshipped as fading gods and teenage love was granted the eternal state of stone. At least to its participants. It wasn't that the girl hated Valentine's Day, or anything. That would be too much like a lonely spinster, bitter because she had never been wed. It was just that the love and caring of the all too mushy day never really sang true in her. Even as a young child passing out mass produced treats her mother had carefully packed for her, she could not see the point of it.

Who cared? Was there really someone out there for her, anyway? And why the Hell would he show her affection through over-priced chocolates (although she loved free candy. So no offense to chocolate)?

And besides, she didn't consider herself pretty enough for something as romantic as a Valentine anyway. Thick glasses, boyish figure, select scars bolding proclaiming the battle with acne from which she had once suffered. Although Emily was cute in the mind of many of her peers, she refused to see herself as anything but plain. It was one of those situations where the high school reunion would be full of surprising confessions.

"_I had such a crush on you! But I was too nervous!"_

"_You were so cute! I was surprised you weren't taken!"_

But seeing as that was over a decade in the future and much too far for this story to extend, we shall embrace the fact that the girl suffered from the great disease known only as Ugly Duckling Syndrome.

Sighing, chocolate brown eyes turned to the window, her only redemption for a time, hoping to perhaps catch sight of two birds fighting or a car catching fire or something to hold her attention (for anything was better than fallacies and similes and whatever else the horribly uninteresting man was trying to teach her. She had just started tenth grade and had forgotten his name). The only thing that could come to the girl's mind, watching the hulking shape barrel towards her classroom, was that wishing was a bitch.

Why else would one have to be careful when using it?

It came too fast and she was too surprised to say anything, the glass shattering and a large piece of stone cracking her in the skull before she could even realize that the teacher had stopped talking. Or her best friend, Edgar, screaming for her to "_watch out!"_ It was much too late for such things.

The evo crashed through the window with all the force of a cannonball, shrieking and screaming like the bird of prey it had once been. The students scattered, the teacher ushering them all out the door as the monster proceeded to rampage through their classroom and kick up debris like a bird trapped in a cage. It upturned desks and books in its frenzy, large razor wings flapping aggressively as a beak sharpened mouth clacked around a pink tongue.

Emily dizzily sat up, blood running from where she had suffered her blow to the head, her vision fuzzy even with her glasses on her face. She wasn't registering reality very well, or surely she would have reacted much stronger to the beast before her and the fact that it had tossed Ed across the room. He was the last one remaining, there only to save her, it would appear, as the messages sent from her brain weren't quite making it to her legs.

Such distorted, _wrong _things evos were, horrible plays on nature. They twisted and mutated the laws of physics and beauty with their very existence, refusing to play by the unspoken rules of life and balance as they continued to crawl upon the earth. They were chaotic and abstract in a way outside of reasonable means, independent of laws that Emily herself had learned to adhere to when she first reached for her first sketchbook. They set her belly aflame.

She really didn't like the monsters.

As though sensing her animosity, the evo glanced down, noticing the frozen girl for the first time. Although she had been the closest one to the window when it had burst in, she had been knocked across the room and onto her bottom by the impact, now sitting with her glasses askew and her mouth agape. Hissing, the mutated animal stopped the beating of its wings in favor of alighting in the ruins of the windowsill, watching her predatorily. Some aspect of its old life as a nocturnal hunter must have remained, as it patiently waited for the little mouse to make a move before cornering it. It was her fear that was, ironically saving the girl's life; because the great animal was only going to strike if she made to run. She was doomed either way, really. It would catch her before she made it to the door or snatch her up now.

Whether Emily recognized this or not was of little consequence. She wasn't going to move either way (couldn't, actually) so she did the only thing she could in such a situation.

She screamed.

"You rang?" The voice came from nowhere, the evo suddenly yanked back from whence it came and tossed, unceremoniously, across the school courtyard. Emily felt her eyes roll to the back of her skull and was quite certain she was about to faint.

If she had even been inclined to such things. But her pride wouldn't allow that.

As it was, she rolled them right back into their original position and shook her way to her feet, watching the new predator.

He was most certainly not a student here. Surely she would have noticed this boy before.

Wearing a bright orange jacket and matching goggles was a scream for attention whilst walking the halls, whether one wanted it to be or not. His hair was spiked and gelled like many boys boasted, and his cocky grin set beneath dark brown eyes. Emily recognized him from the news broadcasts. Rex, an agent for Providence.

Who was also very much an evo.

Realizing his rescued damsel was still staring in wide eyed fright, Rex felt his smile falter. He glanced over his shoulder, wondering if that bird was back. Nope. It was on the ground, gauging in battle with Six and Bobo. He should probably get to that. But first he had to know; why did the chick look so spooked?

"Hey. You're safe now." She winced as the boy spoke, looking like she very much wanted to sink back to the ground. The dark brown braids lining her skull clacked their beads together as she jerked her chin up, a spark of vicious spirit in her eyes as she looked at him. She would not cave, _would not._

"So?" Rex blinked in confusion at the girl's accusatory way of speaking, the malice in her words. "So? You're welcome. You should be fleeing the scene, right?"

Emily was not one for rudeness. Not at all! She had actually been raised to be very polite. But looking at him, gazing at her like at any moment he wouldn't distort his body and ruin the artistic value of his appearance. Like he wouldn't completely throw away the graceful build of his arms and legs in return for those hideous appendages that lie just below the surface. The boy was guilty of a high crime; a destroyer of art!

She turned her back on him, a grimace on her face. "Yeah. Thanks." It wasn't all that sincere. Rex heard the note of distaste. "Hey! I just saved your life, ya know!" The girl jumped as he raised his voice and the young evo realized that she hadn't spoken out of anger.

But out of fear. Her cover for fear was anger.

That quelled his frustration rather fast, replacing it with an awkward since of sadness.

"And I said thanks! What more do you want?" The boy's eyes hooded themselves as the young woman ran over to the only other occupant of the room. It was a boy that lay upon the ruined remains of the teacher's desk, sitting up and moaning.

Shaking his head, Rex turned to leave. He had other battles to fight.

"Nothing, I guess."


	2. Chapter 2

**BB says: **I was originally going to update another story, but I thought I owed this one an update. It's a bit short, but I made it just for you!

**Rating: **Teen

**Disclaimer: **I own no part of Generator Rex. Nor shall I ever (I assume).

**Tactic One: **Cat Crusader

Emily took a breath, allowing it to flow free smoothly. Calm was essential and freaking out would do nothing for her problem.

"What do you mean," breathe, in, out "it's being declined?" The cashier, impassive to the young woman's terrible peril, popped her gum. "It's bein' declined. That's it. You must've maxed it out on something else or something." Emily nodded, although she wasn't really listening. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened, after all. At this point it was all a matter of hiding her embarrassment.

Only then would she allow her tears of frustration and shame to fall.

"Alright," her mouth dried up even as the water gathered in her eyes "thank you." She didn't bother returning the merchandise to the shelve from whence they came, only having eyes for the exit. So, so, embarrassing.

She would have to wait another week, it would appear, to replenish her depleting supplies. That was one more week, irreplaceable and wholly precious _time _that would be wasted on penciled sketches and uncertainty.

Because they were _not _having monetary issues like one would expect someone whose card was declined.

And she was _not_ another sleaze trying to cheat the system.

Mr. Tybalt was simply unreliable.

Oh, she loved her father, she really did. But sometimes…_most _times…she really wished her mother was still around. Her fiscally responsible, remember-to-pay-off-the-credit-card mother.

She was the one that encouraged Emily's love of art. Who had taken the young girl to museums and galleries and watched documentaries of the greats. Leonardo Da Vinci. Machiavelli. Monet. They were all common topics of Emily's childhood, the patient larger hands of her mother holding her steady as she added a dash of color here, a splotch of orange there. Who had proudly hung the girl's finger painted monstrosities on the fridge and who had bought that very first set of paints and brushes. Those were the golden years of the Tybalt family, when all was right with the world.

But then Mrs. Tybalt had gone for a drive.

And never came home.

Oh, she was still alive. And had adopted her maiden name, Smythe. She called Emily once in a while, allowed the girl to spend the summer in her uptown apartment. But she was distracted by her career now, no time for her growing daughter with her own artist aspirations. It was like the woman had grown bored with the whole concept of a child and the reminder that her family had fallen apart.

Emily couldn't fault her, not really. It was her mother's nature from the start, only participating in activities that could hold her attention for a time. And she supposed that her time of being her mother's greatest project was over. Not that it mattered. Because Emily was awesome and amazing all by herself. And when she entered the upcoming art competition (and won of course) everyone would be able to see she was more than just the daughter of one of the modern day greats. She was Emily Tybalt, art extraordinaire, and would show her mother she was worth it.

Rex wasn't sure why he just couldn't let it go. The way that girl had looked at him had stirred the uncertainty that always seemed to lurk just beneath his shell of confidence. The knowledge, the dread, that there were people out there to whom he would always just be…

An _evo._

A _freak._

A _monster_.

The very thought left a bad taste in his mouth.

And that was why, he supposed, he had succumb to a certain brand of madness he usually only saw in that weird cat girl that had been following him around. What was her name again? Cee-something or other. He had slowly been stirred to action by her insanity, a little seed of what ifs and how comes planted by her sneaky, kooky fingers. Because he was fairly certain he wasn't prone to this sort of spontaneity before she started showing up. Maybe before he would have just let this go.

That girl from the classroom had probably just been too surprised to notice how great he was at first. A giant monster bird had crashed into her classroom, after all. It was only logical to assume the girl had been suffering under some sort of shock by the time he had made an appearance. But this time she would see that he wasn't so bad.

He refused to think of how creepy it was that he had been giving this so much thought. He just could _not _let it go so easily.

"Here, kitty, kitty," he whispered. The first phase of his plan required a certain amount of...unsavory behavior. Because he couldn't guarantee there would spontaneously be a situation in which he would need to play the good guy, he would have to create one. And what better time than when she was on her way home from the store? She went every day after school. Usually to buy a snack.

Seriously. He was beginning to feel like a stalker.

"Here kitty…" there was a very sizable tree on the path from her temporary school, a nice big one that was perfect for a cat to climb, but nearly impossible for it to get down. So if one _happened_ to get stuck and he _happened_ to be in the area, BOOM! Automatic nice guy. Girls liked guys who were good with animals and were _suckers _for kitties in danger.

"Come here you fucking cat!" But the key tool in his operation was evading his grasp. It was an extremely adorable, wild-in-that-cute-way alley cat that would only look at him wearily whenever he approached and then promptly move away. He had tried cat food, tuna, and cooing, but the damn thing seemed to be able to sense his impure intentions.

Maybe he should have asked Kitty how to catch one.

Kim?

Whatever her name was, she had cat appendages so she would know how they thought….right?

Great. He just lost track of the cat. Left. Right. Where could it have go-

As though to launch a preemptive strike, the feline leapt from a perch above Rex's head, landing on his shoulder and digging in its claws.

"SHIT!" It released as he reached for it, only to crawl across to his other shoulder and tear into the skin of his neck. Thus began an epic battle of boy versus cat that would be forever told through the ages, minstrels singing of the great valor of the warriors and how the cat was obviously winning. It serrated his clothes, bit at his ears, tore into his arms. He screamed in a very girlish and embarrassing manner as he was bullied by an animal like he hadn't been bullied by an animal since he was attacked by a bunny.

A very sensitive topic.

After what seemed like an eternity of agony, he grabbed the beast by the scruff of the neck and threw it to the ground, panting slightly. The cat landed on its feet and glared at him, hissing deep in its throat. Rex, face scratched and bleeding, was not amused. They began to circle each other, a tumble weed of old newspaper blowing past.

"Is that how you wanna play it? Huh?" the cat hissed louder, hackles rising. "Okay then! You asked for it!" The evo created a large metallic fist, getting ready to just grab the stubborn beast and just launch it into the fucking tree. The cat was brave, but not fast enough to evade as the frustrated young man leapt forward, snatching it into the air roughly.

"What are you doing?"

Rex cringed like a child caught doing something naughty, slowing turning to face the burning eyes of the very girl he was trying to impress.

Damn it.

She rushed him with so much authority he panicked, dropping his feline foe back into the dust. The cat, a manipulative bastard, let out a pained, pathetic (fake, in Rex's humble opinion) mewl. The girl didn't seem to notice the cat's blatant use of its cuteness, scooping it up and looking it over. "What the Hell is wrong with you? You could have hurt him! Why would you do that?" And because he really didn't have a good reason, and he couldn't exactly tell her of his evil plan, the stupid, teenage boy made a joke at the worst possible time.

"He owes me money." There was a startled quiet, in which the girl looked at him strangely and he scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"The cat," she said slowly "owes you money?"

"And he should…uh…pay what he owes?" And although he had faced blows from super strong evos, the bag full of text books he took to the face hurt like _Hell._


End file.
